


Wild Highever Roses

by KnightDawn



Series: Blood of the Covenant [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Anders isn't sure what to make of them either, F/M, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, M/M, Nathaniel is bi but prefers men, Nathaniel pov, but it is mostly about Nate dealing with old feelings, it's more about healing from old wounds, just like the roses, the Cousland/Nathaniel relationship is complicated, the rose metaphor got a bit out of hand, this is a Nate/Anders fic, this isn't a story about an affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightDawn/pseuds/KnightDawn
Summary: The Rose of Highever. That’s what her peers called Lyanna Cousland - always with the additional warning to be wary of her thorns. As Nathaniel watched her clean poison and blood off her daggers, he thought her unofficial title was more apt than ever.She was not a woman anyone would want to piss off.In which Nathaniel Howe muses about things that are, things that were, and things that might have been. Nothing has turned out as he expected it would, but maybe that's not a bad thing.(Written for the 14 Days of Dragon Age Lovers - Day 1: Rose)
Relationships: Anders/Nathaniel Howe, Female Cousland & Nathaniel Howe
Series: Blood of the Covenant [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947613
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Wild Highever Roses

The Rose of Highever. That’s what her peers called Lyanna Cousland - always with the additional warning to be wary of her thorns. As Nathaniel watched her clean poison and blood off her daggers, he thought her unofficial title was more apt than ever.

She was not a woman anyone would want to piss off.

He wondered if this was the face she’d made after killing his father. Disdain mixed with displeasure. She kicked the body of the unfortunate fool that had quarreled with the Hero of Ferelden, and Nathaniel’s gut twisted up. He turned away faster than he meant to.

His eyes fell on Anders instead, who was looking at him with… concern? Pity? Both odd, coming from the mage.

Nathaniel scoffed and walked away.

* * *

“She’s married. You know that, right?”

Nathaniel nearly choked on the wine he was drinking, and he _did_ sputter and cough as he gave Anders a disdainful glare. He set his jaw and placed the mug on the bar, wiping his mouth with his free hand.

“I’m not pursuing her, Anders. I’d have to be a fucking idiot to even consider it - hah!”

“Well, the ‘I kissed the queen’ kind of treason is better than the kind your family’s currently known for. Makes for a better story, too.”

Nathaniel didn’t say anything. Unfortunately, Anders didn’t know how to shut up.

“Besides, your families used to be friendly, right? You can’t tell me your parents never tried to set you up with her.”

“My _father_ might have thought about it. I didn’t think it would go anywhere. Besides,” Nathaniel took another sip of the wine, grimacing again. “She was a brat, back then. And I was _worse._ ”

* * *

She was twelve, the last time he’d seen her before his father had sent him off to the Marches nine years ago. A tiny thing with messy dark hair, a slightly-toothless smile, and fire in her eyes. He’d been nineteen and insufferably full of himself.

“Fight _me_ next, Howe! Fight _me!_ "

Fergus had laughed at his little sister’s antics and flashed Nathaniel a pleading puppy-eyed look. “One match couldn’t hurt, Nate.”

“I think the pup is over-eager.”

He obliged her whim anyway, for her _brother’s_ sake. He let her slip a few whacks in, with her little wooden daggers - a mistake on his part. She was strong enough to leave bruises on his ribs. When he tired of their match, though, it only took one well-timed shove to knock her flat on her back.

Lyanna’s freckled cheeks had flushed an angry red as she ran off to sulk. She asked him for a rematch twice more during the visit, but he’d waved her off each time.

“Try again in a few years,” he’d teased her, his tone cold. “When you’re big enough to back up your _barking._ ”

* * *

Only a couple months later, though, Nathaniel was the one red-faced and sulking. His father had caught him rolling around in the hay with one of the elven stable-boys, and evidently that had been the final straw. His father had never been a patient or tolerant man, and the fact that rumors were starting to get out about Nathaniel’s _preferences_ was too much for him to deal with.

“You should try to be more discreet in the future - but I doubt you care enough to bother.”

 _I care a great deal,_ Nathaniel had thought. _More than you will ever know._

He hoisted his pack over his shoulder with little more than a grunt. and boarded the ship that was bound to leave for Starkhaven in half an hour. He didn’t look back until the pier was barely visible and the ship would be little more than a speck on the shore’s horizon -

His father was nowhere to be seen.

Some parting words, those had been. Nathaniel had never thought they would end up being the last thing his father said to him - but it was somehow appropriate. He would never be what his father had _wanted_ him to be.

He didn’t really mind.

* * *

He often found himself wandering what used to be the castle gardens in the evenings.

The sackings of the Keep had destroyed the plants and hedges that had once been so carefully tended. His mother had cherished them, loved bragging about how the Howe gardeners managed to tame even finicky Orlesian flowers, tease them into blooming in Ferelden’s climate.

Most of those plants were dead. Dried up, beaten, broken. Only the roses had been hardy enough to survive - and they’d gone wild, climbing up the stone walls and trellises. Some were even blooming now, despite the season being wrong.

He found himself thinking of Lyanna once again. She was certainly just as tenacious as his mother's roses.

* * *

“I used to have a crush on you, Nate.” 

They were out on the Keep’s battlements, and Nathaniel was glad his footing had been solid. A little laugh escaped the Warden-Commander’s lips, but her perceptive sapphire-blue eyes remained fixed on his face.

“I don’t know if you knew that, but…”

“I suspected,” he confessed. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“Ha! I suppose Fergus wasn’t the best wing-man back then, either. He enjoyed spending time with you too much to give me a fair chance.”

“Well, he was only a year younger… and you really weren’t my type.”

“Oh, I know. Fergus had all of your attention.” Her voice was quieter, again, all of a sudden. The wistful look in her eyes was a bit too familiar to him. “In hindsight, that’s so obvious - I never stood a chance, did I?”

Instead of answering her right away, Nathaniel turned to look over the battlements. He fell into the routine steps of the night watch, his feet leading them both around the gates and towers. Below and around him were all the lands he was supposed to inherit - and perhaps he would inherit them still, if not in the way he had expected to.

Nothing was where it should be anymore. They were surrounded by ghosts of futures that could have been. He let one such thought play out as he looked down at the unkempt grounds. He might have led her through those winding hedges, plucked a blue rose for her to tuck behind her ear - ever mindful of the thorns.

If his father had been more patient with him, perhaps. He was not blind to beauty, and women could appeal to him - but the spoiled, shallow ladies his parents had pushed his way had been _entirely_ unappealing. He’d always liked things that had an edge of danger to them.

_I never stood a chance, did I?_

_More than you will ever know._

* * *

“Worse? Than you are now? How did _anyone_ put up with you?”

“They didn’t.” Nathaniel finished off his wine and turned to face the mage. “I was sent away to Starkhaven, remember? My father hoped it would tame me.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that. Just like all the nobles keep mentioning our dear Queen-mander’s famous temper.” Anders clicked his tongue against his teeth, tsking softly. “Actually, forget I said anything - if you’d been thrown together under any other circumstances, you’d have been at each other’s throats in a fortnight. In the _bad_ way.”

“Perhaps,” he said, giving a low chuckle. It didn’t escape his notice that Anders had tilted his head to one side as he spoke, baring his own neck slightly in the process. It had to be intentional. “It doesn’t matter, though. She’s happy with her husband, and… there’s someone else I think I’d like to try my luck with.”

“Oh? Is she pretty?” There was still a taunt in his voice - but his meaning was clear.

Nathaniel grinned as he slipped his arm around the other warden’s waist and leaned in to kiss his neck, taking what was offered to him.

“Pretty doesn’t do him _justice._ ”

The hand fate had dealt them wasn’t the one they had bet on. But they were both adapting to it just fine, as they always had.

Wild, noble roses - blooming in the middle of the winter.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Nathaniel. This fic was me trying to sort some of them out.
> 
> I don't think enough stories deal with these sort of nebulous, not-perfectly-defined feelings and I wanted to try my hand at putting them to words. I hope I did it justice.


End file.
